Gift
by Need2Scream
Summary: "I'm an assassin," Jazz said softly. Of all the mechs in the universe to feel safe with, he wasn't even on the list. "You're his friend," Ratchet said. Oneshot, no pairings


Jazz entered the code to Prowl's quarters, concern humming in his spark. The meeting was supposed to start ten breems ago, but no one could find the SIC. He wasn't in his office or Prime's office or med bay. Jazz kept his sensors at full power and didn't stand in the doorway. Maybe Red Alert's paranoia was catching. The door slid open soundlessly. Nothing charged out, there were no sounds of weapons being readied.

After a couple seconds Jazz went in first and stuck close to the wall. He kept a hand on a knife while his light sensitive optics swept through the room unencumbered by the semi-darkness. Red Alert followed him in and went along the opposite wall with a blaster held at his side.

Sprawled out on his berth, Prowl didn't stir. Jazz and Red Alert both came up short when the light caught the silver filaments of his wings. The room was comfortably cool and dark with no signs of struggle. His desk was full of neatly ordered datpads. The small strategy game he and Jazz sometimes played was just as he'd left it three orns ago on a corner table. Prowl sighed softly and pulled a wing further up to cover his face when the hall light fell over him but didn't wake.

The initial bolt of terror that had frozen Jazz's spark when he saw the Praxian on his berth thawed with the movement. He was alive. But maybe sick. He motioned for Red Alert to check the room for anyone hiding while he went to Prowl's side. Red Alert moved with lethal silence first to the dark wash rack, flicking on the light with his blaster still at his side.

Prowl's loose limbed body didn't stir as Jazz approached and his breaths stayed slow and even. The only time he's seen Prowl recharge was either flat on his back in the med bay or face down on his desk. As he was now, he looked…comfortable. With one wing half covering his face to block the hall light and the other wrapped loosely around his frame like a second blanket he was the most relaxed Jazz had ever seen him. Red Alert clicked off the wash rack light and panned his head back and forth, optics flashing as he scanned for spark and heat signatures. Not even Mirage could hide from Red Alert when he employed all of his scanners.

Reaching out a hand Jazz diverted power to those sensors. He didn't have medical grade equipment but at such close range his sonar was enough to give him a rough sketch of Prowl's internals. Prowl sighed again and snuggled deeper into his wings. Jazz got a little interference from the Praxian's own powerful sensors but it was all passive feedback. Prowl wasn't actively 'watching' them with anything. Red Alert came to stand next to him. "Clear," he murmured, optics flashing over their SICs prone body. "Drugged?" Jazz shook his head minutely. Prowl was still reacting to outside stimuli, sedatives would have left him unresponsive. Red Alert reached out and gently put two fingers against the pulse in Prowl's neck.

 _Prime, found 'im,_ he commed with a smile starting to twitch his lips. _Looks like your SIC forgot to set an alarm._ Certain that Prowl's pulse matched what his scanners were telling him, Red Alert removed his fingers. Prowl's optics didn't even flicker.

The three beats of silence before the Prime responded Jazz interpreted as surprise. _Is he awake now?_

 _No_

 _Leave him, then. I'll bring up Smokescreen, he should be able to answer most questions._

"C'mon, Red. Prime says let 'im recharge," he whispered. Red Alert frowned minutely and his optics flashed white twice, but after a second he nodded.

The frown stayed on Red Alert's face but he didn't speak until the door was closed and securely locked. "He didn't react to us at all, are you sure he hasn't been drugged?" he looked up and down the hall, optics flashing again while he remotely accessed the security network.

Any other mech and Jazz would have been insulted to have his expertise questioned, but Red Alert didn't take anymech at their word. "Ratchet'll wanna scan him for every virus out there after this meeting," he said with a huff of laughter. "He can verify he wasn't drugged. He's just…recharging." He started walking down the hall to get back to the meeting but Red Alert didn't follow.

"But Jazz, he didn't wake up. He hardly _moved_." Worried optics darted from the room to the cameras in the hall. "What if someone's gotten into the vents? They could be hiding right now waiting for us to leave. Or they've ducked into a room further down?"

Jazz walked back to him and gently put his hands on Red Alert's shoulders to ground him in the here and now before he flew off on a conspiracy tangent. "Red, Prowl actually requires recharge like a normal mech," he said softly. "And, this orn's meeting wasn't originally scheduled. What'd the Prime say, he told him about it in the hall yesterorn. Pit only knows what he was doing when Prime told him. He forgot and didn't set an alarm. That's all it is." Red Alert calmed marginally and walked with him when Jazz started down the hall again.

"But Jazz, if someone came into your quarters unannounced, wouldn't you wake up? I know I would, but sometimes I can't use myself for examples with things like this," the security director said with a small frown still tugging the corner of his mouth. Jazz thought about that for a few seconds. He'd thought it was funny seeing Prowl recharge through a meeting, but Red Alert made a good point he'd overlooked. Prowl may have looked like a cocooned sparkling, but he was a soldier, a fragging good soldier, and two mechs had walked right into his quarters and he hadn't even cracked an optic open to see who.

"All right mech, I'll give you that. Maybe he does have a virus. Ratchet will come down after the meeting and check on him, but I promise, he wasn't drugged." Jazz answer seemed to satisfy enough of Red Alert's apprehension that the mech lifted his head a bit more. The frown remained but he stopped looking over his shoulder.

They arrived at the meeting while a slightly flustered Smokescreen was doing his best to give a report. He glanced over when the door opened and mid-sentence said, "He's really in recharge?" The incredulous tone was underscored by laughter and Jazz grinned at him.

"Better keep it to yourself, that blackmail's gold," he said. Smokescreen snorted a laugh and then ducked his head and gave the Prime an apologetic smile before getting back into his presentation.

 **oOo**

"You gonna go down and take a look at 'im?" Jazz asked following Ratchet out after the meeting. Red Alert was already gone, making a beeline for the security room, probably to make sure none of the feeds from the cameras by Prowl's room were doctored.

Ratchet glanced at him over his shoulder and snorted. "No, why should I?" There was an implied 'Primus-Save-Me-From-Glitches' optic roll in the sentence as well that Jazz chose to ignore.

Blinking in surprise Jazz said, "Ratch, I know he wasn't drugged, but he hardly moved when Red an' I burst into his quarters. You don't think somethin's screwy with that, like a virus?" He threw in his own 'Why-Do-I-Work-With-Idiots' optic roll.

Ratchet turned around and gave Jazz a look that said he'd dealt with more intuitive sparklings. "First off, I doubt either you or Red Alert are capable of 'bursting' into a room. Slinking, sliding, skulking; absolutely, but bursting, barging, running; no." He smirked when Jazz flipped him a rude gesture. "Second, the sensors on his wings would have read your spark signatures as soon as the door opened. There was no reason for higher functions to get involved."

Jazz shook his head. "Ratch, I know he's got good sensors, but he…he didn't _move_. All he did was pull a wing up to block the hall light. That's it. Didn't even do an active scan. You think that's normal? For Pit's sake, I'm a fraggin' assassin, that warrants at least one optic opening!"

Ratchet's expression shifted and while he wasn't and didn't look young, he looked centicycles older for just a second before it was gone. "Yes, it used to be normal, Jazz." He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, much like Jazz had done with Red Alert in the hall outside Prowl's room. "Did it occur to you, Jazz, that Prowl trusts you?" he asked softly. "That his sensors read yours and Red Alert's spark signatures and he knew he wasn't in danger."

That brought Jazz up short. Literally. He felt a momentary disconnect between his processor and his body. He blinked stupidly at the medic like he'd just confessed he was in fact Primus in disguise. Ratchet sighed and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Once upon a time, Jazz, mechs used to trust each other like that. Times like these, that's a gift. I promise you, if we'd all glitched and sent the Twins to check on him he would have been awake _before_ the door opened wanting to know what they were up to."

"I'm an assassin," Jazz said softly. Of _all_ the mechs in the universe to feel safe with, he wasn't even on the list.

"You're his friend," Ratchet said, letting go. He turned without another word and walked out the door. Jazz stood a breem longer staring into empty space with the odd vertigo feeling popping up and churning his tanks every few seconds.

He started walking, slowly, no real direction, just a need for movement while he thought. He'd known Prowl almost fifteen centicycles and of course they'd butted heads harder than Gygaxians the first few vorns but they'd worked it out. Prowl did his thing and when he figured out that Jazz got things done doing them his way, he'd pretty well left him alone. But at some point in that, they'd moved past Working Relationship to Friendship and he really hadn't noticed. He tried to think of any other mechs that could get into Prowl's quarters without security or medical overrides. Bluestreak, maybe.

He also realized that Prowl had the code to his quarters as well. That was another slap across the faceplates. He hadn't even thought about it when he'd given it out. Not even Blaster had the code to his quarters. He knew he wouldn't recharge through an unexpected visit from Prowl, he was too twitchy for that, but he couldn't imagine palming a knife or grabbing a blaster.

The full weight of the trust Prowl had shown threatened to bring him to his knees. Two mechs had walked into his quarters unannounced and he'd left himself completely vulnerable. Jazz could have killed him five times over, Red Alert at least two, but he hadn't flinched. Instead he'd made himself more comfortable and let them do as they pleased. He _trusted_ them.

Jazz was certain every mech on the _Ark_ had told him at least once they trusted him. He'd never thought much of it. They had to trust him. It was his information that the tactical team based their plans on. They had to trust him not to lead them into a slaughter. But that trust only went so far. He'd gotten a music chip from Blaster's quarters once while the mech was napping. Both Steeljaw and Eject had been awake and given him a friendly greeting. Cliffjumper didn't like it when he stood behind him too long. Even the Twins kept an optic on him when he was in the rec room. And if a more unpleasant aspect of his job ever came up in conversation it was met with awkward laughs and averted optics and a quick subject change.

He couldn't think of one instance where Prowl told him he trusted him. He'd never said those words. But he hadn't flinched when Jazz walked into his quarters. Hadn't even opened an optic when Jazz was a handspan away from him running scans. A warm feeling built in his spark and a smile of real happiness crept across his face. Ratchet was right, that was a gift.

 **oOo**

 **A/N:** Just a little snippet, doesn't fit with anything. Thank you for R/R/F/F!


End file.
